


How does it feel?

by MrsSiriusBlackG



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Explanations, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Scene: The Ritz (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 08:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20404801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsSiriusBlackG/pseuds/MrsSiriusBlackG
Summary: Takes place right after Crowley and Aziraphale clink glasses. They share stories of what happened in Heaven and Hell. Crowley wonders if he can feel Love again.





	How does it feel?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Good Omens story, I fell in love with this universe, the characters, the relationships, and everything.  
A huge thank you to Hazelmist for taking the time to correct this story. You're a gem and I couldn't write anything without you. Thank you for your help, your corrections, your trust, the inspiration you give me and above all for being such a good friend.

**HOW DOES IT FEEL?**

The first gulp of champagne tickled his tongue and throat. Alcohol had never felt this good because he knew that it really was over. Of course, as soon as they got back to his place, he had run to his wine cooler to find the best bottles he had stored all those years in anticipation of an important event but it hadn't felt that good because he knew it wasn't over yet. And Hell, he had been right, the worst was yet to come for Aziraphale and him.

* * *

It had taken them a certain amount of time and several attempts to eventually be able to swap their bodies. Not because the task was difficult but because they were dead drunk when they realized what Agnes had meant when she had written her 3004 th  prophecy: _“When all is fayed and all is done, ye must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff ye will be playing with fyre.”_ They had been thinking about it for hours when Aziraphale, who had drunk a bit less than Crowley, had been the one to understand the meaning when he saw their twisted reflections on the window's glass. They had been looking at the outside, trying to enjoy the view of the city that had almost disappeared, when Aziraphale had yelped and then dropped his glass of white wine, labeled as the oldest wine in the world, a bottle from Strasbourg, France, 1472. Crowley had given him a blank look, already a quip on his tongue, but the angel had started to speak and it had taken him several minutes to explain the prophecy. First, because his mind wasn't completely clear due to alcohol, but also because Crowley was easily distracted. On several occasions, Aziraphale had had to snap his fingers in front of the demon's eyes and even wake him up twice because he had fallen asleep on his couch, his snore sounding like a soft whistle. Sure, demons and angels didn't have to sleep, but after a day like this one, they were both exhausted. Not only physically but also mentally. They were literally knackered after they had given everything they had. Adam had put everything in order and people had pretty much-forgotten everything, but for those who had been directly involved, it had been harder to get back to normal.

They had first tried to swap their bodies while drunk but it ended on swapping their faces only. Crowley screamed and startled, deeply shocked and confused, his eyes not doing their job properly (not that snakes' eyes were really working anyway), making him unable to focus on the objects around him. He had fallen on his coffee table, his arms waving in the air, and kicked Aziraphale in the process, making him stumble.

_“Oh, for Heaven's sake, Crowley!”_ the angel had said, dusting his trousers with the back of his hand. _“We can't do this in this state, we have to sober up!”_

_“Oh, angel, please, no! I'm sure we can do it, don't make me sober up!”_ Crowley had whined. It was quite painful to sober up because even though alcohol left the body, the effects were still there, especially the hangover.

_“One more try and then we sober up, there is no way we stay like this!”_

The second time they had tried, they had decided to sit on the couch and had only been able to swap the upper part of their bodies. Crowley had sworn he could do it while drunk, it had even become a personal challenge, something that he could be proud of; but Aziraphale had had none of it.

_“No, Crowley, you sober up right now, I don't want to live like this for the next few hours!”_ the principality had insisted.

_“Alright, alright!”_

After that, it had only taken them a few seconds to swap bodies and Aziraphale had immediately noticed all the differences, shivering from head to toe. First, the eyes. Oh yes, that had been weird and he couldn't see clearly.

_“How do you manage to see anything, my dear? It will take me weeks to get used to it!”_

_“Just try to move around slowly and carefully so you don't lose your balance and you should be fine. Besides, it gives you some style!”_ the demon had explained, grinning wickedly and jiggling his eyebrows; and Aziraphale had wondered if he had ever been able to do this with his own face.

The next thing that Aziraphale had noticed was the weight difference. Not that he had ever cared about that, but it felt different around his hips, knees, and ankles. Talking about the hips, he had wondered if he could ever manage to sway them as well as Crowley did.

_“And what is the secret to sway your hips the way you always do? That is definitely something that they will notice if I don't do it.”_

_“Pretend that you're a model,”_ the demon had shrugged as if it had been the most obvious thing in the world.

_“A model trying to dislocate his hips,”_ the angel had mumbled, taking a few steps in the room.

_“Hey, don't diss my hips! It gives me style!”_ Crowley had barked and then pouted.

_'That it does,'_ the angel had thought, remembering all the times he had been hypnotized by the swagger of them.

_“Angel, how many layers of clothes do you have? It's insanely hot in here!” _Crowley had interrupted his little fantasy.

_“Not that much but definitely more than you, I'm freezing!”_ Aziraphale had complained.

_“Well, get used to it because there is no way you make me wear more than two layers. And don't even think about tartan, I'd rather drink holy water than wear this awful… thing!”_

_“Then you'll have to get used to the many layers I wear.”_ The angel had snapped.

_“Oh, you got the sassy part quite rapidly, you should do it more often, they love it when I snap at them!” _Crowley had retorted.

_“On the other hand, you should learn how to shut up and smile politely, my dear. They don't tolerate people who speak too much Up there.”_

_“Tell me about it. Should I remind you why I Fell?”_

_“No, thank you. One more thing: what about your hair?”_ Aziraphale had asked, slipping a hand into the red hair. It had felt softer than he had expected.

_“What do you mean, my hair?”_

_“Well, you must do something to it, right? You don't just wake up in the morning, when you wake up, that is, looking like this?”_

_“I usually miracle it like that but sometimes I use hair gel if you must know.”_

_“Oh, I see.” _ And for Aziraphale, who had been dreaming of touching the demon's hair for millennia, it had been like Christmas came early. Crowley didn't even know that he had given him the best present in the world, and the angel had sworn to himself that he would enjoy the feeling every morning while brushing _his_ hair. Coughing, the principality had quickly added: _“I think we definitely should exchange some anecdotes, just in case they start to ask questions, don't you think?”_

And for the next hours, they both had shared personal stories while trying to mimic the other as well as they could. Crowley had had to help Aziraphale with his hips, standing close behind him, his nose in Aziraphale's – well in _his_ neck – and putting his hands on his hips. It had felt weird, but it had been even weirder for the angel, who had shivered again, and Crowley had wondered if his friend was repelled by the intimacy or if, perhaps, with a bit of luck, he enjoyed it.

* * *

“So, tell me, my dear, what happened to you Up there?” Aziraphale asked with interest, taking Crowley out of his reverie.

“Well, nothing that I had never experienced, the usual stuff, you know.” Crowley shrugged.

“I actually don't know, I've never… I'm not…” the angel stuttered.

“You mean Fallen?”

“Yes.” The principality reddened.

“You can mention it, angel, I'm fine with it by now. Anyway, Gabriel wasn't pleased, obviously, and he's been an ass, calling me sunshine. I wanted to show him how much of sunshine I was but I knew you would have acted better. Then an asshole from Hell arrived and put fire into a circle made of stones. I tried to convince them not to do it, asked them if they might reconsider. He said something like 'shut your stupid mouth and die already'.” The demon mimicked the Archangel. “I swear, I almost lost it right there, I wanted to punch him in the face, with his stupid smile and his stupid purple eyes, the freaking bastard. But I simply glared at him and smiled politely as I thought you would do. As you could imagine, they didn't reconsider. I let you connect the dots after that. But I got you revenge, I spat fire towards them, you should have seen their faces! I swear they have never looked that scared, you would have loved that, angel!”

“Thank you, my dear! I think I would have enjoyed the view indeed. But tell me, did it hurt? I would hate you to suffer because of me.”

“Nothing that I've never been through, don't worry about that.”

“I want to know, Crowley. I _need_ to know.” The angel said in anguish.

“It might have burnt a bit, it's fire after all. But it wasn't that bad, I've been into a bath of sulfur, remember?”

“Oh dear, you've been through so much, how can you be so casual talking about it? Just thinking about it, it breaks my heart.”

“It's alright, angel, everything's fine now, I don't think we'll ever have to pull a stunt like this again after that.” Crowley tried to reassure the principality, touching his forearm and then drinking his champagne. And to prove to him that he really was fine, he took a macaron from the angel's assortment of pastries, much to his surprise, and ate it, looking him in the eyes through his glasses.

“Do you want to know what happened down there or do I save it for later?” Aziraphale asked, swallowing with difficulty. He had never been fooled by Crowley's glasses and had always been able to see through it. He briefly wondered if his friend was aware of this.

“Are you telling me that you've done something more amazing than asking for a rubber duck and making Michael miracle a towel?” the demon asked, almost in awe.

“You wouldn't believe it, my dear!” the angel started to say with excitement. “After they abducted you, Hastur and his friends knocked me down with some kind of metal stick and I thought that I gave us away because I couldn't help myself and said 'it's tickety-boo'. That was the last thought I had because I passed out right after that.”

“Tickety-boo? You made me say tickety-boo? Come on, angel!” Crowley whined, making a face before drinking his champagne.

“Well, yes, sorry, dear. But they didn't seem to mind at all because when I woke up they treated me as if I were you.” At this point, Aziraphale stopped talking, sadness written all over his face.

“What happened? Did they hurt you? I swear they'll pay for it!” the demon growled, making another patron turn towards their table.

Seeing that the angel didn't seem to phase, Crowley reached for his forearm, gently shaking it.

“What is it, angel?” he asked softly.

“Well… as you might have guessed already, they weren't very pleased to see me, well, you. Some of them spat on me, others kicked me but I've already experienced that with Uriel and Sandalphon so it wasn't a problem. At some point, I tripped on something and they caught me by the hair to get me back on my feet. I even think that someone tried to bite me but they didn't have teeth.” Aziraphale chuckled at this mention but Crowley had never looked so offended. He might have well known that the angel hadn't been the target of their anger, he couldn't help but be outraged and feel his fingers tickle with rage.

“Oh, angel, I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve that. I should have endured all of this, it was my idea to stop Armageddon.”

“No! Don't you dare take all the blame! You might have had the first idea but I agreed with you because you were right. I might have come to the same conclusion but it would have taken me years to get there and it would have already been too late to do anything about it. You're always so far ahead, you think so fast! And you're so brave, and I'm such a coward! Oh, good Lord, how did we get there? We were having such a nice time, and here we are, arguing! All I wanted to do was tell you how I managed to look convincing in front of hundreds of demons.” Aziraphale sighed.

“We're not arguing, we're exchanging points of view. And you're not a coward, you just protect yourself because you have everything to lose. What worse could happen to me anyway, eh? I'm already Fallen!”

“Crowley, they wanted to put you into a bathtub full of holy water! You would have been destroyed! And what about me?”

“I would have jumped into it head first if that meant that you would have been safe! Can't you see it, angel?” Crowley pleaded.

“See what?”

Crowley sighed deeply.

“You won't make it easy for me, eh? I would have done anything for you. I still would do anything to protect you because I don't want you to suffer, I don't want you to get hurt in any way because, I'm not sure of anything, but I think I lo…”

“But losing you would have hurt me!” Aziraphale cut him off. “What would I do if you weren't here with me? I don't want to spend the next 6000 years in a world that doesn't have you. I'd rather let Heaven and Hell fight here and destroy everything. Don't you understand? I don't want to be there if you're not. We both saw the beginning of Humanity and we should both see the end of it if it happens one day. If you can't be there, then I don't want to be here either. This world is _our_ world, I don't want to share it with anybody else!”

The angel's lower lip was wobbling and it was the most heartbreaking thing Crowley had ever seen because this time it was because of him and it broke his human heart and tore his demon soul apart to see Aziraphale like this.

“Angel, look at me. You won't lose me, I'm not going anywhere. But just so you know, if I ever had to choose between saving you or saving me, I'd save you. Not because of some moral duties, not because you took a risk by going down there, but because you're my angel. I'd do it willingly, I wouldn't even think twice about it. You're too worthy to be sacrificed. I don't want to imagine a world without you either, but if we had to be separated for any reason or if one of us had to die, I'd rather leave this world. And you know why? Because you still have so much to give. Not only little miracles from time to time or a saving here and there, but also Love with a capital L. You are a being of Love, the world wouldn't turn right without you taking care of it and making people believe in Love. Me… I can't do this, this is not my purpose anymore, you see? I'm not a good person anymore. I'm only nice when it comes to you, angel. And don't you even dare to repeat that because I would deny it.” If he had been braver, he would have added something else. But demons weren't brave, they were just cheeky or stupid or, in Crowley's case, both. All he could say was “I don't even remember how it feels to love someone.” And that only proved the point that demons were stupid because it only made Aziraphale's bottom lip wobble harder.

“You don't feel love, right?” the angel's voice was breaking a bit more with each syllable.

“I'm not saying this. I just say that I don't remember how it feels. Maybe I can, maybe that's why I can't help but save people and this world. But I just can't remember. How does it feel, tell me?”

Aziraphale breathed in and out to calm himself and started to ask questions.

“How do you feel when you look at kittens?”

“Hungry.”

“Crowley!” the angel reprimanded him.

“Hey, I can't help it, I'm still a snake! But I can't deny that they're kinda… cute,” he said, making a face. “They kinda remind me of you, all sweet and dumb and yet super clever and aggressive from time to time. But I doubt it's what they call Love.”

“What about books? I know that you don't read but you saved my books in 1941, it must have been important to you, wasn't it?”

“No, it wasn't. But it was to you, so I saved them. I knew you'd be pissed to lose them so I managed a little demonic miracle of my own so you wouldn't be sad.” Crowley shrugged.

“What about your car? You must love it, right?”

“Can we feel love for inanimate objects?” Crowley retorted.

“What about your plants, then?”

“Ask them if they feel like I love them, you'd be surprised.”

“But they grow up so well, they're so beautiful!”

“That's because they're scared. Terrified, even. Do you remember that time when you brought me a cactus from your mission to Mexico in 1684, for the solar eclipse?”

“Oh yes, it was quite lovely to see those people thanking…”

“My point is,” Crowley cut him off, “my point is that this stupid plant died, and you'd been asking for months if it was fine. And each time I told you that it was because I didn't want to hurt you, telling you that it died only three weeks after you gave it to me. And you were so sad to learn it died, a few decades later, that I swore I would take care of any plant you'd give me. But I don't really take care of them, I just yell when I moisturize them and they're so afraid to die that they grow as I want them to. If some of them try to resist, well, I feel sort of… proud of them.”

“That's so rude, Crowley! Don't you know that they can feel everything?”

“Hence why I yell, angel. But what I wanted to say is that I don't feel anything for my plants, I just don't want you to be sad anymore about it.”

“And Jesus?”

“No, okay, I felt bad for him, the poor guy. Is it love?”

“Probably not, but at least we know that you can be compassionate, that's a good start, isn't it?” Aziraphale smiled.

“If you say so. But that doesn't prove I can feel love. What if I just couldn't because I'm a demon?”

“Let's just keep going. How do you feel about food?”

“Have you ever seen me eating anything?” Crowley arched an eyebrow.

“Yes, about five minutes ago. And in 1793. We had crêpes. They were scrumptious!”

“Yeah, but I don't care about food. I ate them because you wanted me to try it. Same for oysters, actually.”

“What about music? You always listen to music!”

“It's not as if I had a choice! My stupid car doesn't play anything other than Queen! But I like them. Freddie Mercury was actually a charming guy, he had a thing for me, I think.”

“Did he? Well, I can understand why.”

“Why's that?”

“Well, he always had a thing for men, and you certainly were his type, I think. I bet you inspired a few songs.”

“I didn't, but Beelzebub did.”

“Beelzebub? How did that happen?”

“People from Hell used to follow me everywhere, they thought that you and I were spending too much time together, that it was weird for a demon, and Freddie met Beelzebub one day after I helped with the arrangements of his new album. The next day, he was writing Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Well blow me down! That's quite a story you're telling here!” Aziraphale didn't think he could ever get tired of the demon's stories.

“There's one question I want to ask you, though.” The demon, now serious, seemed hesitant.

“Sure!” Aziraphale frowned, suddenly concerned.

“Have you ever been in love?”

_'Oh, that's quite a turnaround!'_ the angel thought, blushing.

“Well, I think I've always loved everything because that's my nature, you see, but being in love is something different. I think I've felt this a few times in the past. Oscar Wilde for example. Bors too, when I was a knight for King Arthur. And do you remember the young actor that was on stage when we met Shakespeare? I had what they call now a crush on him, is that how they call it?”

“But he was an awful actor, come on, angel, you can do better!”

“You don't decide this kind of thing, it just happens, whether you like or not. You don't choose who you fall in love with.”

“And how does it feel? How do you know that this is Love and not just a fling?”

Aziraphale knew how it felt, he had felt it for the last 6000 years, but how could he explain that to someone who, on his own confession, couldn't feel Love? How could he tell him that being in love was looking at someone in awe even though they didn't do anything amazing? That being in love was thinking “he's an idiot, but he's MY idiot”? That being in love was missing someone after being apart for a few minutes only? That being in love was having not only butterflies but also all the bugs of the world in your stomach when you saw the other? That being in love was shivering each time the other called you 'angel'? That being in love meant to find the other beautiful no matter what he was wearing? That being in love was to lie to him just because you want to protect him, even though it breaks your heart to let him go? That being in love was to be willing to go to Hell just to save him?

“It's hard to explain, really. You just feel warm and safe when they're here, and cold, sad and empty when they're not. And you wish you could spend your life with them, even if you don't do anything more than drink alcohol on a sofa, talking about the world, or simply have lunch at a fancy restaurant.”

_'That's it, I said it.'_ Aziraphale thought. _'Let's see how long it takes before the shoe drops.'_

“Let me get this straight, angel. Are you saying that being in love looks like what we've had for the last 6000 years?”

_'That was faster than I thought.' _The angel cleared his throat, a bit relieved.

“Well, I don't know for you, Crowley, but that's how it feels for me, and I guess that's how it feels for everyone, give or take a few things. Have you ever felt something like that?” he asked with anguish.

“Don't you ever dare mention it, but I think I do. Does your skin tingle when the other touches you?”

“It definitely does!” Aziraphale answered, shivering as Crowley's hand ran towards his forearm, then his hand, to rest on his knee. “How do you feel when I do this?” he asked, looking into his eyes through the demon's glasses, stroking his cheek.

“Soft. And I know I shouldn't like it, but I do. What does it mean?”

“It means that you might be able to feel love, my dear, but I wouldn't want to assume anything from a simple tingle.”

“What do you say we go back home so we can explore this tingling skin, angel?” Crowley asked with a wicked smile, finishing his glass of champagne, then standing up and extending his hand to Aziraphale.

“I say let's get some privacy, my dear,” the angel answered with a soft smile, taking the demon's hand and feeling it again, the amazing tingling.

“One more thing, though…” the demon added as they walked towards the exit.

“Anything for you, you know it.”

“You have to promise me one thing. If we ever have to swap bodies again, don't make me say tickety-boo ever again, please.” Crowley pleaded.

“I can't promise anything, but I'll do my best.” Aziraphale winked, and it was the most cheeky thing the demon had ever seen him doing. Maybe they were rubbing off on each other after all.

As they left the restaurant, they heard a bird singing, the same one that had been singing when they had left the park, and Aziraphale kissed Crowley's cheek. At this exact moment, the demon swore he could feel Love again.

**Author's Note:**

> Special dedication to my friends from the DT's group chat who have supported my rant and rave for weeks. Sorry for making you tear up a bit, too.


End file.
